A Tender Magic

by Linda Madl

  Pender's accusation against Leofric didn't surprise him. But the circumstances didn't fit. Was Casseldorne here in Cornwall? Was Leofric truly responsible for these deaths? Did he take Leandra with him? If so, where to?

  "Where does this road lead?” he demanded of the friar.

  "Forestell,” the friar said. “'Tis Sir Chygwin's keep. The good old knight died recently, but his nephew did not know that when he arrived."

  "His nephew?” Garrett repeated. “What's his name?"

  "A man of wide travels and great wealth,” the friar said. “Leofric of Casseldorne."

  * * * *

  LEANDRA WAS UNABLE to stop shivering, and the desire to sleep was beginning to overwhelm her. The torchlit hall draped in black frightened her. Abruptly she turned away from the funeral bier and the ornately carved casket. How long would it take Garrett to find the trail, she wondered. She really had no desire to stay here.

  "We must get you into some dry clothes, my dear,” the black-clad woman with a familiar face said. Her nose seemed about to touch Leandra's. She squinted back at the woman, wondering who she was.

  "Do you hear me? You do remember me, don't you, dear? I'm Widow Adelle Chygwin. We met on the road."

  "Yes.” Slowly Leandra recalled the plain, practical widow who'd ridden at the head of the funeral cortege. “Of course, I remember. May I stand by the fire? I'm so chilled."

  "Dry clothes first,” the widow said, gently shoving Leandra in the direction of the stairs. “Then something warm to drink. My dear, your hand is absolutely icy. We must warm you. This way."

  Leandra put out her free hand and braced herself against the wall. The shivering seemed to have taken all the strength from her brain, but she knew she should wait near the door for Garrett. He would be along any moment, and he would expect to ride away without delay. Besides that, an annoying voice in her head was telling her that she didn't want to stay under the same roof with Leofric for any reason.

  "No. Please, Widow Chygwin, just let me sit by the fire."

  "As you wish, my dear,” the widow agreed. “But I really think you should put on some dry clothes. Sit here. I'll have the fire tended to and wine brought, hot and spiced. Sit here, my dear."

  Battered down by the widow's torrent of words, Leandra nearly collapsed into the chair.

  "So, you're a neighbor of Leofric's,” the widow continued. “You can imagine my surprise when I arrived home with my husband and found my nephew here waiting for us. Leofric hadn't heard about the death, you see. But it has been such a comfort to have him here. So reassuring."

  When the wine arrived, Leandra clasped the cup between her hands, allowing the warmth to seep painfully into her frozen fingers. The spicy aroma tingled her nose, and she began to awaken. But her shivering refused to stop. If Garrett would kindly make his entrance, everything would be as it should be.

  "There you are.” Leofric's eyes lit up when he spied her with Lady Adelle after excusing himself to change out of his wet clothes. He crossed the room. Dressed in fresh purple hose and jacket, his hair neatly combed, he grinned covetously and seized her hand. He bowed over her cold fingers, murmuring foolish compliments to her fair beauty, which she knew in her present state couldn't possibly apply. As soon as was polite, she withdrew her hand from his.

  The leather of the chair next to her creaked as Leofric seated himself. Something about his nearness always made her wary—then there was the memory of that pirate head he'd presented to her as a gift.

  With a stiff, polite smile, she sank deeper into the chair, grateful at least for the heat of the fire and the warmth of the wine. She closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth and yielding to the desire to sleep. Another fit of shivering shook her.

  "You have been through such a trial,” he said, leaning toward her. “Here I was pining away, thinking that you were safe and happy with Bernay, on your way to Lord Reginald, but you were in the hands of those outlaws. Being abused by them. I'm only sorry that I was unable to come to your rescue sooner."

  "I was not abused. Only taken against my will,” she murmured. His possessive tone and his insinuation that she'd somehow been compromised by the outlaws annoyed her. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. “Those outlaws were taking me somewhere for some purpose. Did your men learn anything from them? Has Sir Garrett arrived?"

  "Ah, no.” Leofric glanced uneasily at the door of the great hall, as if someone might burst in at any moment. “As soon as we know what has happened to Sir Garrett, we will send a messenger to Tremelyn and let the earl know of all that has transpired and of your safe rescue. I know the earl will be most grateful that you are safe. But let us trouble ourselves over this no more."

  Leofric snapped his fingers at the steward. “Bring more wine for the lady. Where is that minstrel? Come sing us a song. Something soft and soothing for the lady.” He leaned closer to Leandra. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and it took all her self-control to resist leaning away from him.

  "We will take care of you, my lady,” Leofric assured her. “You are safe here."

  She began to wish that she'd ridden back down the road toward Garrett—if she'd known which direction that was—when she'd regained control of her horse.

  The minstrel sang on. Outside the castle the wind rose and rain beat down, pattering against the wooden shutters. She sipped the spiced wine and listened to the songs with half an ear. Exhaustion stole over her. She leaned her head on her hand and fought back the sleep that threatened to overcome her. Such an insult to her host. The influence of the wine, she thought. She shivered again and pulled herself up in the chair.

  "You wear Lord Reginald's betrothal ring,” Leofric stroked her hand, a finger lingering on the golden circle she wore. “'Tis large for your finger. See how easily it slips off."

  Her awareness sharpened. Her hands were so cold that the ribbon wound inside the ring did little to prevent Leofric from taking the circlet from her. She struggled to sit straight in her chair. “My ring. Give it back, please."

  "Don't set your chin like that,” he murmured. “You forget how long I've known you, sweet Leandra, since you were but a child. I know what that set of your chin means. Such stubbornness. I only ask you once more to reconsider this betrothal."

  "No,” she said. “Please, my ring."

  "Obstinacy is an ugly attribute in a woman,” Leofric admonished. He took the wine cup from her. “Consider my request. What has Lord Reginald done for you? Sent a knight known to come from a traitorous family? Bernay couldn't even protect you from pilgrim impersonators."

  She tipped her head back to squint at Leofric. “The pilgrims were my fault.” The room swayed a bit. Was she ill or had she merely imbibed too much wine? She took a deep breath to clear her head, but weakness nearly overwhelmed her. Her head became unbelievably heavy. Sleep beckoned, seduced her. She tried to rise from the chair, thinking she would gladly lie down on the floor to sleep. Maybe then the shivering would stop. But her feet were lead. She sank back heavily, terrified that she was going to lose all her senses to the encroaching darkness.

  "Well, the earl's knight certainly has failed in protecting you,” Lady Adelle said. “You should be grateful for Leofric's brave rescue."

  "Indeed I am,” she muttered.

  "There is no time to lose,” Leofric was talking over her head now to his aunt. “She shall be mine tonight, before Bernay comes."

  Then he peered at her. She opened her eyes to see him lean close until his dark features filled the whole of her view, distorted like a face in a rounded mirror. She closed her eyes against the unpleasant sight.

  "Aunt Adelle, bring your chaplain here to witness her change of heart,” Leofric demanded.

  "Witness? Chaplain?” she chanted, trying to make sense of what was being said around her. “No, I don't need a chaplain."

  "Yes, dear,” Lady Adelle piped cheerfully. “A chaplain would do no harm."

  "Don't go to sleep on me, now,” Leofric said when Lady Adelle di
sappeared from the room. He bent over her and grabbed her under the arms, trying to drag her from the chair. “God's wounds, your wet clothes will ruin my new suit."

  She struggled against him. But his strength seemed too much for her. So she let herself become dead weight. Surprised, Leofric almost dropped her. He cursed her defiance.

  "I won't do it. Whatever you want, I won't do it. Never, never, never,” she chanted. She liked the sound of the word and repeated it again. It seemed to relieve the heaviness of her head. “Never, never, never,” she sang. If she kept saying that, surely she'd be safe.

  "The words are ‘I will.'” Leofric swung her up into his arms and spoke into her ear. “Say, ‘I deny my betrothal to Lord Reginald. I will become betrothed to Sir Leofric,’ then I'll let you sleep."

  "No,” she said. “Never, never, never. I can't say ‘I will’ to anyone. Not you. Not Reginald. I can love only Sir Garrett."

  "What's this?” Leofric peered into her face. “Stop shivering and explain."

  "I love only Sir Garrett. And he loves me. Faithfully. Above all things. Whatever your plan, Leofric, it will never work. Never, never, never. It's because of the love potion, you know."

  Leofric started across the room, Leandra still in his arms. She was remotely aware of a chaplain, and of Leofric and Lady Adelle staring at each other.

  "Why didn't I think of that?” Leofric hissed at Adelle. “A love potion. She would have fallen in love with me, and Reginald would never have had a chance."

  "Too late for that now,” Adelle said. “If you want to wed her, you must get her to deny her betrothal and get the chaplain to agree to perform the ceremony. But even then she says now that she loves another. Shocking! And to think I thought she was such a dear thing to call your uncle a handsome man when she viewed him in his casket."

  "Shocking,” Leandra agreed because she liked the sound of the word.

  The door banged open. A gust of wind swept about the room and dragged at Leandra's skirts. Torches flickered and flared. Rain showered into the hall. Unholy shouting rang painfully in her ears. She covered them with her hands and twisted around in Leofric's arms to find the source of all the noise.

  Too late, the guard at the door tried to take a defensive stance. But one swipe of the intruder's huge blade forced him to retreat. The minstrel and the steward scattered to the corners.

  Frozen in place, Lady Adelle, the chaplain, and Leofric stared at Garrett Bernay.

  He towered just inside the door, his sword in one hand and the nape of Leofric's sergeant of the guard clutched in the other. A Tremelyn man stood ready in his shadow.

  Leandra swallowed hard to ward off tears of relief. The knight's dark golden locks were plastered to his head. His mud-spattered tunic clung to his chain mail, and water dripped from his chin. The wrath of a warrior god burned in his dark eyes.

  But to her, he was the perfect vision of knighthood in full bloom. She couldn't take her gaze from his face. At last someone real and trustworthy in this nightmare place.

  No one moved, no one dared to, except her.

  She gave him her best smile as she squirmed free of Leofric's arms.

  "Mercy, I'm glad to see you, Sir Garrett."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twelve

  WHEN LEANDRA'S FEET hit the floor, she found the stones untrustworthy. Leofric backed away from her. She staggered slightly, stretching out both arms to find her balance. Finally the swimming faces and the furniture steadied.

  "I've been waiting for you, Sir Knight.” She planted her hands on her hips and listed slightly to the right, shivering the entire time. She waved at Leofric. “I told him ‘never, never.’ But he wouldn't listen. So I told him about the potion that binds us. I'm afraid I couldn't do any more."

  Garrett studied her, annoyance and relief washing over him, hot and cold all at once. The sight of her wrenched his gut. Sweet Jesu, but her eyes were too round and lustrous, her lips almost blue, and her face whiter than pale.

  "What have you done to her, Casseldorne?” He wanted to snatch her up and whisk her away, out of Leofric's reach, beyond the prying eyes of all the people in the hall. He wanted to hide her somewhere, to wrap her up in safety and warmth, to make her well. To make her laugh with him again as she had on the tor.

  "She drank too much wine, that's all.” Leofric shrugged his shoulders and pointed at his sergeant. “What is this, Bernay? Release my man. You have no right to charge into my aunt's keep, armed and hostile."

  "Your man? This man tried to ambush me.” Garrett released the trembling sergeant with a shove that sent the man sprawling to the floor.

  "I'm sure ‘twas a mistake,” Leofric said. “Put away your sword, Bernay, and I'll send the guard out. We're all honorable knights of King Edward here."

  "Indeed,” Lady Adelle agreed. “This is a house of peace."

  "Then dismiss them.” Garrett pointed to the guard and the sergeant and waited with his sword still drawn.

  Leofric gave the men a curt nod of dismissal.

  The two soldiers scrambled out of the hall into the rain. Garrett sheathed his sword. He considered the chaplain and the lady of little threat, but he noted that Casseldorne remained armed.

  Leandra tottered across the hall toward him. He held out his hand to her.

  Leofric's eyes narrowed. His handsome face hardened in anger. He stepped forward to retrieve the lady, but she made her choice. She lurched, staggered a few steps beyond his reach and then tottered pell mell toward Garrett. He grasped her hand and drew her to his side.

  "She knows not what she does.” Leofric folded his arms across his chest. “Where were you, Bernay, when the lady was kidnapped? She was in need of your help. Outlaws carried her off. Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't had the good fortune to ride into me in the forest."

  "Good fortune, indeed. You planned this from the beginning, didn't you, Casseldorne? Rescue her from her captors and wed the grateful lady."

  "'Twas mere chance."

  "Pender wasn't quite dead when we found him,” Garrett continued. “He told me about the reward you offered to any who would bring the lady to you unharmed."

  "Is that true?” Leandra swayed unsteadily. Her eyes grew darker in horror. “Pender was your man?"

  Leofric shrugged once more and looked around at the company, Lady Adelle, and the chaplain, as though he didn't relish them hearing these details. “I won't deny it. I killed the red-haired pirate, too. Sometimes a man must deal with people he would ordinarily never speak to. What did Pender tell you? Surely you didn't believe him."

  "He told me about your disappointment in the king's refusal to help you and your father further your fortune and about your plot to take over Tremelyn.” Garrett guessed at some truths and wove in certain facts. All the while he talked he worried about Leandra's blue lips and trembling limbs.

  "You know more than I thought.” Leofric offered up a rueful smile. “You should be thanking me. If it weren't for my paid assassins, you wouldn't have gone to Reginald's rescue. You'd still be toiling away as a humble sergeant of the guard, instead of charging about the countryside as a knight."

  "So you were behind that attack,” Garrett said. “I owe you nothing. I would have defended Lord Reginald whether the threat was yours or another's. That is my pledge. Your assassins made no difference."

  Innocent men had died because of Casseldorne's greed, and men had been betrayed. Rage boiled up inside of Garrett, though he knew that emotion had no place in dealing with a man as ruthless as the purple knight.

  At his side, Leandra moved as if she sensed some change. He ignored her look of inquiry.

  "But Lord Reginald lives,” he said. “And Lady Leandra will be his—"

  "Lady Leandra, who is bound to you, I understand.” Leofric grinned maliciously and wagged a finger at him. “She told us about the love potion. Were you that desperate, Bernay?"

  "The potion was none of our doing,” he replied as calmly as he could.
He frowned at Leandra, but she appeared too confused to understand their words.

  "But I can see you're besotted with her, and for me to have her, I'll have to fight you, won't I?” Leofric clasped his hands thoughtfully behind him and turned to the fire. “Sit down, Bernay. We're both men of the world. Surely we can do business."

  "I'll listen,” Garrett said, mindful of the guards just outside the door, ready at Casseldorne's beckoning. He drew Leandra with him to a pair of chairs by the fire. Tom remained inside, near the door.

  With a great show of being a thoughtful host, Leofric ordered dry towels, a blanket for Leandra and hot wine. Garrett accepted the towels, seated Leandra and covered her with the blanket, and refused the wine. Who knew what was in it?

  As he dried his hair, Lady Adelle and the chaplain settled themselves in chairs on the other side of the hearth.

  When he was finished, Leofric turned in his chair and began. “I know what you want. You and I are alike in a way. We have ambition. You've won back the Bernay knighthood. Next you want the family holding that was forfeited. Am I right? What was the place called—?"

  "Chycliff,” Garrett supplied. He glanced around to see that Leandra was sinking into a sound sleep in the chair at his side, yet she continued to shiver even in her slumber.

  "Yes, Chycliff.” Leofric leaned forward in his chair, speaking directly to Garrett. Firelight lit one side of his face and cast the other in shadow. His words fell from his lips rapidly, soft and hissing like the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

  "I can petition the king for the return of Chycliff as easily as Reginald can. I can even see to it that you have the lady, if you want her. I'd planned to take her for myself. But it really doesn't matter who weds her, just as long as she bears no heirs to Tremelyn. Pledge your fealty to me, Bernay, and the lady and Chycliff are yours."

  Slowly Garrett turned to gaze upon the dozing Leandra. Her head nodded to one side and her sable lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks.

  "Yes, look at her,” Leofric whispered. “Fair and lovely. When her lips aren't blue. Think of her at your side."